


milady

by oldrival



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M, barely sum pepperony, everyone’s fav spider-boy gets a brief lil meme cameo, it’s funnier if u do, kinda implied clintasha. if u squint, the end gets a lil sad. but it’s okay, u don’t have to have watched the episode to eNjOy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 11:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19172125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldrival/pseuds/oldrival
Summary: steve & bucky get exposed. based on ‘baby i can’t quit you’ s5e2 of that 70s show





	milady

**Author's Note:**

> my attempts at 40’s slang clarified:  
> “up the creek” - in trouble  
> “fathead” - dummy, idiot  
> “make a pass” - to flirt, make a move  
> “sappy” - very romantic, affectionate  
> “push off” - to leave  
> “old geezer” - a rude way to refer to the elderly
> 
> *post endgame except steve has an ending that actually makes SENSE so he’s not an old man, no dancing w peggy, & everyone is alive

“Oh good God,” Natasha exclaims, trudging into the shared kitchen of the Avengers headquarters. Steve and Bucky, avidly engrossed in one another in front of the neglected open fridge - physically engrossed, to be clear - don’t notice Natasha immediately. She freezes a foot away from Steve and Bucky, hands on her hips and eyebrows skyrocketing up to her hairline. 

Steve and Bucky’s hands fly off each other as they both jump and face Natasha. Equally alarmed expressions quickly grasp their features. They gape at her. She gapes right back. Steve wipes his mouth while Bucky yelps, “It’s not what you think! We’re not together.”

“Then what’s going on in this kitchen?” Natasha demands, icy blue eyes darting from Steve to Bucky to Steve to-

“Ummm,” Steve looks just about everywhere except at Natasha until suddenly he recalls, “Clint’s by himself trying to stop an entire fleet of invasive aliens from killing everyone in Central Park right now.”

Natasha continues staring at them both for a few seconds, looking even more stunned than before, until she turns abruptly and speedwalks out the way she came, hand clamped over a holster hidden under her sweatpants.

“Steve, you totally just put Clint up the creek. That was so badass,” Bucky mutters, metal arm already snaking back around Steve’s waist. Steve’s lips curve into a bashful smile as he looks at Bucky from under golden eyelashes. Bucky leans in until the tips of their noses brush and he’s got a handful of Steve’s ass in his flesh hand. 

 

Bucky presses Steve into the drab, but pleasantly supple, sofa in the common room, the drone of whatever was on television drowning out the wet, lecherous smacking sounds their lips make. Steve’s hands rub Bucky’s chest, grip his arms when Bucky’s knee digs in between Steve’s legs. 

Bucky’s head jerks up. He licks slick ruby-red lips and listens intently to what sounds like the national anthem. Brow furrowed, he murmurs, “What the hell?” 

“Oh, say can you seeeeee,” a familiar voice drawls from a distance, extremely off pitch, “by the dawn’s early liiiiight...” 

“Sam,” Steve gasps, and Bucky’s scrambling off him and hurling himself into the arm of the couch, crossing his legs, hunching over, while Steve hastily rights himself and shoves his hands in his lap as he tries to situate himself a respectable distance away from Bucky and then Sam is strolling into the room, pausing when he sees the two veterans. 

“Wait a second,” he narrows his eyes, waggles a finger at them, “You two look sweaty and guilty.” 

Bucky peeks at Steve from the corner of his eye, heart pounding in his ears and his neck and his chest and everywhere else. The throbbing in his pants is even worse. Steve’s biting a swollen lower lip, staring at Sam, his attempt to look nonchalant ruined by his rapid breaths and rigid body language. Sam’s hands are on his hips now and after a glance at the TV he questions, “Have you been watching The Great British Baking Show without me?”

Steve gives Sam a bewildered look, eyebrows raised, “What?”

“Right there,” Sam points at the TV, “I can’t believe you guys. We promised to watch this together! You know what? That’s fine. I’m gonna go watch all of it right now. Alone.”

Sam glares at them and saunters back down the hallway.

Steve sighs and stands up, wiping sweaty hands on his jeans, “Bucky, that was way too close. You need to learn to keep your hands off me.” 

Bucky scoffs, “Me? You’re the one who can’t keep his tongue to himself.” 

“Please. I let you fool around with me out of pity,” Steve says indignantly, tiny sly smile tugging at his lips as he sits back down practically in Bucky’s lap.

“You know what your problem is?” Bucky takes one of Steve’s hands in his, playing with his fingers, “You’re really cute, so no one ever told you to shut your piehole.”

Steve glowers at him with pursed lips until slowly, his cheeks glow pink and a dopey smile makes his eyelids droop when he looks down at Bucky, “You think I’m cute?”

“Shut your piehole!”

 

“What the hell?” Pepper halts, jaw on the floor as she stares wide-eyed at Bucky absolutely ravaging Steve on the common room sofa. Tony appears behind her, usual confident posture instantly deflating when he sees the two super soldiers in a position he’s definitely never seen them in before. Bucky pushes his weight up on his arms and hisses down at Steve, “You said they were gonna be out for a long time, fuckin’ fathead.”

Steve twists so he meets Pepper and Tony’s astounded eyes, and squeaks out a panicked “Oh my God.”

“I’m blind,” Tony says shortly, shaking his head. Nobody moves a muscle.

“Steve-” Pepper bursts out, hand flying to her face. Steve shoves Bucky so he falls back against the opposite arm of the sofa, legs still entangled with Steve’s and tries very hard to sound genuine as he yells, “Get off me!” 

Still silent, Bucky clambers upright and shrinks against the arm of the sofa, looking at Pepper and Tony like a tiny puppy who’s just been caught destroying their most prized possession. 

“Okay, so, um, what exactly did you see?” Steve asks as casually as he can muster, hauling himself up to face Pepper and Tony. Tony takes a few tentative steps further into the common room, arms crossed, and sputters, “Hands, tongues, yours, his. It was horrible!” 

“You were like siamese twins joined at the beard,” Pepper says quietly, studying the veterans with an uncomfortably maternal demeanor.

Bucky eases himself up from the sofa and breaks his silence, “Hey, it was his fault, ma’am. He threw himself at me.” 

He flops down into an armchair as far away as possible from all of them. Steve isn’t having it. Pointing an accusatory finger at Bucky, he says very matter-of-factly, “No, no. You were on top of me.” 

“You pulled me,” Bucky retorts, looking at Pepper and Tony earnestly when he adds, “I’ve been in cryo and a hard metal chair for 70 years. So, you know, my balance is off.”

Tony just stares at them. Running a hand through his hair he states, “This is impossible. How-“

A door shuts in the distance and Sam ambles into the common room, raising his brows in question at the tense and oddly positioned group who all turn to look at him.

“We just caught these two frenching. Like a couple of French people at a frenching festival,” Tony announces to Sam. Sam blinks, “What? I mean, man, why am I even surprised?”

“Okay, you are gonna tell us how this happened, right now,” Pepper demands, leaning on the back of a chair. 

“Okay, fine. Look, I’ll just tell you what happened,” Steve huffs, “So we’re in my room, and we’re talking about the past, just kinda reminiscing. Bucky’s got some tissues, he’s tearing up-“

“Uh, I did not- I don’t cry,” Bucky interrupts, quickly tucking his hair behind his ear in a failed attempt to appear perfectly composed and natural. He just looks more vulnerable. Steve gives him a dubious glance before continuing, “Whatever, it’s my story. Anyway, I could totally tell he was trying to make a pass at me. We’re all sappy, you know, and then he holds me real close, we’re looking into each other’s eyes, and he says,” Steve lowers his voice dramatically, “‘may I kiss you, doll’?”

Through collective snickers Sam manages, “Bucky, I had no idea you could be so- so romantic.”

“Come on, he’s so full of shit,” Bucky growls, the unfamiliar feeling of so much attention on him making his cheeks flush and sweat bead at his nape. 

“Then why don’t you tell us what really happened, doll?” Tony drawls, moving to stand behind Pepper and drape his hands around her waist.

“Fine. Fine, okay?” Bucky stares down at his fidgety hands in his lap, “Steve and I were doing whatever. Talking. Reminiscing. It was obvious he wanted me. Steve said, ‘I want you.’ Then I said, ‘it’s obvious.’ And, y’know-“

“God, that’s crazy,” Steve snaps, pointing a finger at Bucky, “No, you came on to me first.”

“You know, you said you weren’t dating anybody when we asked earlier this year to put it on file,” Pepper interjects, looking pointedly at Steve, unintentional maternal disdain creeping into her voice. 

“Wh- Well, we’re not dating!” Steve responds hotly, prickling, his cheeks shiny red apples. Bucky slaps the arm of his chair, “They just don’t get it.”

“No- Why would they?” exasperated, Steve scans the room before hopping up and turning down the hallway, gesturing to Bucky, “Let’s push off, babe.”

Bucky all but leaps out of his chair, very pointedly avoiding eye contact with the others still present in the common room. Tony throws his hands up, a glazed look on his face, “I’m leaving too. This place is tainted for me now.”

Sam and Pepper follow. Pepper shakes her head, “Well, I still wanna know how the hell all this happened.”

 

what really happened:

 

Bucky chuckles, hastily pressing a hand to his eyes to get rid of any water - that’s right, his eyes just happened to be watering at the moment, that’s all, just a normal occurrence - caught in his eyes and gets up from the cushy chair he’s been occupying for the last hour in Steve’s room. Steve’s own glistening eyes stare down at the floor. They’re hazy, far away. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, in the Avengers headquarters, but he’s not really there. He’s in the 40’s. Bucky knows.

Bucky takes slow, careful steps towards him, fits his hips between Steve’s splayed knees. He takes Steve’s chin in his flesh hand, lifts Steve’s head up so they’re looking at each other, in the here and now. It takes some goddamn willpower not to collapse and start bawling like a baby when Steve’s watery eyes catch his own and he sees the silent ache contorting his chiseled features ever so slightly to a degree only Bucky would notice. 

“Sorry, Buck. I really didn’t... I didn’t mean to get so- so-“ Steve sniffles. He doesn’t trust himself to carry on, voice thick and wobbly with restraint as he forces himself not to break down completely. He tries to suppress the almost century old memories of when he’d see Bucky truly smile, no guilt, no pain behind his carefree grin. Bucky shushes him and leans over so Steve’s face is in his chest. He wraps both arms around him, squeezing him probably a little too tight - but Steve’s a super soldier now, he can handle it. Steve snuffles into Bucky’s shirt, weight fully leaning into him. Bucky feels it growing damp. He feels Steve’s arms encircle him, hands loosely fisted in his shirt at the small of his back. He detests seeing Steve like this: hurting, aching, desolate. The worst part of it all is that he hasn’t a clue about how to make it better.

Bucky leans back into Steve’s touch and cups Steve’s face with his hands. If the cold metal on Steve’s hot skin bothers him, he doesn’t say a thing. Steve’s sitting up taller now, hands reaching for Bucky’s nape and pulling him closer. Bucky’s brows twitch in silent question, eyes probing Steve’s flushed, wet face. Steve gives him a very tiny shaky smile that conveys what words won’t. 

Bucky lets Steve pull him closer until their faces are mere centimeters apart - and they both lean in, lips bumping together oh so carefully. Chest tight, Bucky sucks in a shaky breath against Steve’s parted lips. Neither of them have budged. Steve makes a stifled noise like he’s about to say something, and Bucky tries to pull away because he’s afraid, did he do something wrong, did he misjudge, what’s going on?

Steve’s hands press harder at his neck, keeping him in place, and he starts to move his lips against Bucky’s. Soft, slow, cautious. Smoother than honey. Bucky’s encouraged. Eventually their guarded, gentle movements gain speed and momentum. Years, decades, of veiled love and passion finally erupt between their lips. Steve’s tongue briefly ventures out, just barely brushes Bucky’s lips - and Bucky’s gone. He licks into Steve’s mouth, tangles their tongues together, devours him like he’s fucking starving. Steve’s gasping, clutching at Bucky’s greasy, unkempt hair and Bucky’s letting a couple breathy, wanton noises escape his lips as he loses himself. Steve’s ankles cross behind Bucky and his heart palpitates like a damn firecracker when he feels Steve’s toes curling against his calves. Steve pushes against his chest and they separate, chests heaving, lips bright red and glistening. 

“Damn,” Steve gazes up at him from under heavy golden lashes, flashes him a shit-eating grin, “little lacking in this area compared to back then, huh, you old geezer?”

Bucky just rolls his eyes and leans in again.


End file.
